Promising Consequences
by Hannah the Fly
Summary: A prequel to Oliver Twist, describing how Bill and Nancy first met. Rating for some sex references, violence and adult themes in later chapters. Please read & review!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Charles Dickens owns all the characters from Oliver Twist. Seeing as he wrote it 150 years before I was born, I doubt I could claim that I invented them anyway.

Fic starts here:

At this time of night, it was always cold, but tonight the piercing chill seemed far more intense to Nancy than usual, even with the crowds of people around her. Still it wasn't as though it mattered much - she knew well enough that if she was cold, the best thing to do was to find the nearest man with money to part with, and stay close to him for a while. The money he paid you could be spent on something that would warm up your insides, too. Tonight, however, was different. Nancy knew that she had to get some money from somewhere; otherwise she would be thrown out of her room again. There was only one place to get that money from, but somehow she felt that it was beyond her. It was odd, since tonight was no different to any other night. But yet she felt different inside. Shivering as she walked back to the corner of The Three Cripples, she spied a head of greasy red hair and a body covered with that grey coat she had seen so often. Fagin, Nancy thought with relief. At last somebody to talk to, now that Bet had left with that sailor. She adjusted her shawl and strolled over to him, hoping that her voice wouldn't reveal too much of the delight she had in seeing him in her lonely state.

"Now what would a man of such a high reputation as yours is, be doing in such a lowly place as this?" His dry laugh always reminded her of the time she had sneaked into a play. There was a scene in that where a villain cackled over the capture of the heroine he loved, and that laugh sounded just as raspy and lifeless as that of the man who stood before her now.

"Business, my dear, only business."

"I'll bet. Come inside and warm yourself up."

They walked back, just in time, Nancy thought, since it had begun to rain again. Fagin walked up to the bar and paid for a glass of gin, before taking a seat at the nearest table and motioning for her to join him.

"And how's tonight's business going, my dear? I didn't expect to see you - I had assumed that some lucky gentleman had found you by now." He handed her the glass and motioned for her to drink.

"No such luck tonight, I'm afraid."

"Well, don't despair yet, my dear. I have a feeling you'll be set before long." He grinned and stood up. "The gin is on me."

"You're not going?"

"I told you. I have business. But don't despair. You shouldn't be alone here much longer." With that, he scurried past the crowd into the darkness, leaving Nancy alone with her thoughts once more.

"It's just as well he bought me the gin. After all, he was the one who first introduced me to it." When she was just five, she had met him. She couldn't remember much before Fagin, when she lived with her mother. Aside from some vague images, all she could remember clearly was when the typhus swept through the street. Like everyone else, they had become sick, but Nancy recovered. She remembered staying by her mothers side, not comprehending why she didn't move or speak. Nancy didn't want to leave the house, not even when the smell of her mother's corpse became sickening, but after becoming so hungry that it was painful, she went out into the streets. Nobody had any pity for the half starved girl, just as they had no pity for the many others in the same situation. She scavenged what she could but one day when she spent hours trying to satiate her hunger and failing miserably, she broke down in desperate tears. By some incredibly lucky or unlucky twist of fate, Fagin spied her at that moment and approached her. He told her that he would give as much food as she wanted, as well as a home and company. All she had to do was play some games. How could she refuse? He took her in and was true to his word. It seemed to Nancy that her wildest dreams had come true. She liked playing the games with the other children that she stayed with. They all involved taking things out of people's pockets, and she thought that they were great fun, especially when Fagin held her up as an example to the others.

That had continued until she was thirteen. Then Fagin told her that she wasn't earning enough and would have to leave unless she could find a way to get more money. Fortunately, he told her, there was a way she could. He took her into a tiny room with a bed in one corner and told her to lay on it and stay there, no matter what happened. She was in the room alone for a few minutes when the door opened and a strange man came in. He told her to take off her clothes. She protested, but the man said that he was a friend of Fagin's and that if she didn't, he would tell him. He then took off his trousers and forced himself upon her. It hurt and she felt tears come to her eyes as he entered her and had his pleasure. Finally, he finished, dressed himself and left the room. She had cried then, when she was certain that she was alone. The next day, Fagin explained to her that if she wanted to lodge with him, she had to do that every night. Otherwise, she would be turned out onto the streets. But that was a long time ago. She had met Bet shortly after that, when she turned up to the Three Cripples to find men. Bet was about her age and they got on well, eventually resolving to move their own lodgings. It wasn't cosy, but it kept them dry and warm, and that was enough.

Nancy stood up from the table and tottered unsteady to the edge of the tavern. Enough was enough. She couldn't stand to wallow in self pity any longer. She was going to bed. It seemed that Bet was certainly earning enough to pay rent for both herself and Nancy, and she could always pay her back later. Placing her hand against the wall for support, she began to head home when she suddenly stumbled into a man leaning against the wall.

"I'm sorry... I didn't see you."

"Where are you going?"

"I want to go home."

The man laughed. "Why do you want to go home?"

"I'm lonely." For the first time, she looked up at his face. He was a tall man, with black hair, blue eyes and the stench of beer about him.

"Come on, don't go home. I'll keep you company. I've got money, huh? We can have fun."

Nancy hesitated. "Alright. Come on, then." She led him to a quiet alley and prepared to earn her rent money.


	2. Chapter 2

Sikes wrapped his coat around himself and walked steadily on against the freezing wind. "Go and celebrate," Fagin had said, and celebrate he intended to. It had been an excellent job, certainly. As usual, what Fagin had paid him was less than excellent, but it should tie him over until next time with some left to spare. He passed a man vomiting against a wall and strode on. Fagin had told him that there was a pub nearby full of likely women and that was where he intended to go. He smiled to himself, wondering what life would have been like if he had stayed. He doubted he would have lived this long, and allowed himself a moment of pride for creating his own destiny.

He had lived with his parents and four brothers and sisters for what now seemed like an eternity. His father, a blacksmith, was dismissed from his trade when Bill was eight years old. After that event, Bill had often wondered whether his father would still have been out of work if he had put as much effort into beating the cast iron as he did into beating Bill's mother. His father had fallen into drinking, too, and the seven of them would shift from lodging to lodging as soon as the rent was due. Finally, their desperate parents came to a conclusion. Bill and his two brothers were offered to a chimney sweep for 20 shillings apiece. The man took his younger brothers, but not him. "Too big," he had said, "far too big." The sweep left a few minutes after that, taking Bill's brothers with him. He never saw them again.

His sisters and mother began work in a textile factory, knitting stockings, while Bill himself was sent to work in one of the slaughterhouses near the docks, where, according to his father, his "size would have some use". If indeed there was a hell, then that slaughterhouse was surely it. Bill would start work at five, killing hundreds of animals every day so that the rich could eat. The place was so filled with animals and people that there was no room to sit, not that Bill would have been allowed to sit down anyhow. It constantly smelt of animal blood and excrement, and the walls were smeared with vomit from the men that couldn't handle the work. It occurred to him once that he never saw sunlight during the working week. It was dark when he rose and dark when he returned home, and the filthy wood from which the slaughterhouse was built allowed no light to enter. Light was a luxury the labouring poor could not afford.

It was during one of those 'dark days' that his life changed forever. It started like any other day: he rose at four and left immediately for the docks to begin work, when he passed a man on the street. The man himself was uninteresting enough, but he caught Bill's eye when he saw what he held in his hand: a gleaming gold pocket watch. Bill had only seen one of those before – his father's, which had been sold at a pawn shop shortly after he lost his job. It had given them twenty five shillings. Twenty five shillings. If he, Bill, could get that watch and sell it, he could leave. He could run away from his miserable family and hellish work to something better. Fourteen years old and strong from his line of work, he could do anything he wanted. All he needed was that watch.

Bill stole a quick glance up and down the street to make sure he was alone. Running up to the man, he then shoved him up against the wall and hit him across the face, just as he had seen his father do so many times. The man slumped down – for a moment, Sikes' blood ran cold as the thought crossed his mind that perhaps he had killed him, but a quick check showed that he was breathing. He snatched the watch and ran away, not quite knowing where he was headed. Holding the watch in his sweaty hand, he wasn't afraid of being robbed or attacked in this strange area. He knew that he could fight as well as any man - and what's more, he would. But Sikes resolved one thing: he would never go back to his old way of life. He could hit, threaten, steal, anything that would ensure his escape from poverty, but he would not revert to his old life in the slaughterhouse. He would never kill anything again.

It was during this resolve that Sikes passed a grisly old Jew and a young man. He noticed that the man was giving the Jew various items not dissimilar to his newly gotten watch, after which the Jew paid the fellow. What more did he need to see? He approached the Jew and showed him the watch. "What will you give me for this?" His new life had begun.

There it was. The Three Cripples. Sikes turned to enter, hoping to get more drink – what Fagin had given him could hardly be called beer – when a girl stumbled out of the door and into him. She had the dazed look of someone who had drunk too much and was too drunk to realise it. She'd do.

"I'm sorry," she slurred. "I didn't see you."

"Where are you going?"

"I want to go home."

Sikes laughed. "Why do you want to go home?"

"I'm lonely."

"Come on, don't go home. I'll keep you company. I've got money, huh? We can have fun."

The girl hesitated. "All right. Come on then." Sikes followed her into a nearby alley and thanked God that man could create his own destiny.


	3. Chapter 3

"Madam, I am not well."

She had always dreamed that one day she would become an actress. Once, when Fagin was particularly pleased with her work, he had given her a book of plays. Nancy had sat down and read them all in one sitting. She had decided that her favourite was _Romeo and Juliet_. She loved the idea of having a man who was was prepared to die in order to be with her and often she would sit in bed with a candle, silently memorising Juliet's part and imagining. Even now, long after her dreams had been extinguished, she could still remember most of it and would sometimes repeat a line in her head when she felt that it was relevant. This morning, "Madam, I am not well," seemed particularly appropriate. Nancy moaned, leapt of bed and ran to the window in time to be sick out of it.

"Now there's a lady for you." She could hear Bet laughing.

"Shut your mouth." Nancy jokingly replied. "After all, its not as though you can say that you've never done the same."

"Well, you have me there."

"What time did you come back?"

"I don't know. All I know was that it was most certainly after you, for I wanted to have a good sleep but you kept me awake for a long time with your drunken snoring." Bet smiled.

"Blame Fagin, he was the one who gave me the stuff last night. Besides, I waited hours before anyone came, and so what else could I do but drink?"

"You got some work after I left?"

"Just one. After that I felt so ill that I came back here."

"A regular?"

"Nah. I don't think I've seen him before." She groaned. "Funny, isn't it. Gin's cheaper than water, so you drink more of it, but the more of it you have, the more you want water."

"I'd like to see someone ask for water at the Cripples, though. Sleep it off if you need to. I'm going out, I'll be back later."

"Alright, I think I will. Bye." She waited until Bet had left, then reached under the mattress for her book. Even though she never looked at it now, it was nice to keep it close to her as a reminder of dreams she once had. She thumbed through the well worn collection of plays until she came to the one she was looking for. It was just how she had remembered it, full of circled passages, scribbled notes containing directions for the way Juliet should move and even rough drawings showing what she would wear in each scene. Nancy looked over them idly and turned to the first page of the play. There was only one marking here, a star drawn next to one of the names in the list of characters:

_Romeo, son of Montague_.

* * *

"The crib at Paddington can't be done any earlier than next week."

Fagin sighed. "Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure! Me and Toby have been watching it for four days this past week and though I know well enough that you don't care what happens, so long as your neck is in the clear and you have your blunt, I happen to care about meself enough to do it when its safe."

The Jew looked uneasy. "I only meant, Bill, that times is hard and it would be best if I got the stuff as soon as possible."

"Times is always hard according to you, the Devil knows that you use that excuse often enough to avoid paying me what I deserve."

"I paid you well enough last night." Fagin grinned. "At least, you seemed to think there was enough to spend on one of my girls." Sikes bit his lip. "How was last night, my dear?"

"Last night was the only time you even paid me half of what I deserve," replied Sikes in a low voice, "and the only reason you did pay me that much was that you knew it would get back to you when I paid your girl. There are plenty more of the likes of you, but there ain't nearly so many who have the talent I do for giving you the stuff you want. If you don't start giving me what I deserve, I'll find someone else who will." Sikes rose up to leave.

Fagin paused. "Which girl did you have?"

"I dunno. Light hair, red dress, very gone with the drink. Said she was lonely." He put on his hat and strode out of the room.

Fagin looked thoughtful.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Sorry. Work hours have sucked, which means that all I've been doing recently is work and sleep. I finally got the chance to write some more, so here it is. The lyrics are from "Villikens and his Dinah", which evolved later into "Sweet Betsy of Pike". It's the song that's heard in the tavern in _Oliver_, just if you were curious.

Fic starts here:

The sun had set and the day had begun. The crowd had begun to gather, the drinks were being poured and already the shouting was starting. Nancy folded her arms and leant against the wall, studying the crowd for potential clients.

"Law of averages, Nance. You don't get many one night, but you'll be busy the next." Bet grinned. "So I won't see you until tomorrow!"

"Here's hoping!" Nancy smiled back and watched idly as Bet walked off, drinks in hand, into the boisterous crowd, who had begun to sing one of their favourite drinking songs.

"Go, dress yourself, Dinah, in gorgeous array,  
And I'll get you home a husband both gallant and gay…"

He had come back! She was sure it was him, even though her memories of the previous night were rather hazy. Was there any more money to be made there? She began to approach him but stopped when she saw that he had sat down at the nearest table and had asked something of the nearest girl. Nancy bit her lip in anger at the thought of a lost client, but her annoyance soon subsided when she watched the girl leave and return a few minutes later with a plate of stew. Perhaps she could approach him later, then. Turning to leave, she realised with horror that his eyes had drifted from his meal upwards, to where she stood. He knows I've been watching him. Oh God. She stood in a stunned shock, uncertain of what he must think of her or what she should do. Fortunately, Nancy was spared the decision as to what action she should take, because the man had smiled and motioned for her to sit by him. She obeyed.

"Still lonely, I see… or was that your name?"

"Nancy, actually." She hesitated. "And yourself?"

"Bill." He paused a moment to take a mouthful of stew. "So what were you doing staring at me, huh? What were you thinking?"

"What I have to in my station. I gotta eat, ya know."

"I know. Lucky for you I don't take offence at being stared at. Not by women, at least." He grinned. "You ain't busy tonight, are ya?"

"Not that I know of."

"Good, 'cause I'd hate for you to have to turn some other fellow down just so you could stay here with me."

Nancy couldn't help but smile. "What makes you think I would choose you over any other bloke?"

"'Cause -" He signalled the girl once more."There ain't too many blokes around with my good manners." The girl returned holding a mug of gin, which she offered to Nancy. "Drink up." Nancy did as she was told. When she had finished, Bill pushed his now empty bowl aside. "And now to business. Come on." Nancy stood up and followed him out of the tavern, meeting Bet's eye as she did so.

"Now, all you young men, don't you thus fall in love…"

A Jew with greasy red hair smiled as he saw the two finish their conversation and leave the tavern together.

"And, all you young maidens, mind who you clap your eyes on…"

The singing faded as they walked into the darkness of the streets. Nancy turned into the alley and reached to lift up her skirts when she felt Bill's heavy hand on her wrist.

"You insult me."

His remark confused her. "What? I - "

"I'm a respectable gentleman." He laughed. "I want a bed and walls this time. Follow me." Continuing to grasp her wrist, he lead her out of the alley and down the streets. A baby cried somewhere and she could hear two women arguing about something. A man's scream suddenly cut through the chilly air.

"Does it scare ya?"

She looked up into Bill's face. "No."

"Good." He reached into his pocket with his free hand and withdrew a key. He suddenly veered to the left, and thrust the key into a tiny door at the side of one of the decrepit buildings. "It's just up here." Up a set of stairs and to the right, he opened the crumbling door and lead the way into a tiny room. A white dog looked up as the door opened and growled at the newcomer.

"Stay, Bullseye." Bill commanded. He turned to Nancy. "Come on, you won't get bitten. But I can't say the same for the dog's behaviour." Nancy laughed and, at ease, entered. Bill smiled and shut the door behind them, ensuring that it was once again locked before turning to business.


	5. Chapter 5

In a place where smiles – true, honest smiles that showed genuine happiness – were as rare as money and compassion, the Jew's seemed particularly alien. It was obvious, however, that his smile would have seemed out of place just about anywhere, so broad and expressive it seemed.

It had gone to plan. Everything. It would be perfect. Take a threatening, violent robber who saw women in the same light as he saw his dog, add a love-starved, miserable prostitute with a romantic mind and the result would be a Jew with much less to worry about.

The idea had occurred to him just days before. Looking back, Fagin wondered how such an obvious solution had eluded him for so long. He and Sikes were at his den discussing business, which, as usual, had taken the form of Sikes demanding more for what he had delivered. Fagin had tried to point out that he could hardly pay him enough to keep him in the Park Lane style, after all, he had boys that had to be fed. Sikes had responded in his typical fashion, throwing Fagin against the wall and demanding that he pay him more, boys or no boys, or else the next time Sikes saw him, his injuries would be a lot worse. After he had left, Fagin idly thought that Sikes had never specified that he wanted to be paid in money. The more he pondered this idea, the better it seemed. He would encourage Sikes to see some of his girls. Sikes would inevitably have a favourite, every men did. Then he, Fagin, would simply give her to him. He would therefore have paid Sikes – at absolutely no expense.

And he had picked Nancy. It was almost as if Sikes was trying to make the plan work, it was so perfect. She wouldn't object at all, not a girl who had always wanted to be Juliet. Fagin knew her well, more well than she cared to admit. Bill and Nancy. Each gets what they want, with Fagin to thank.

Yes, thought Fagin, as he returned to the den and his sleeping lackeys, they'll never be able to say that old Fagin never gave them anything.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: I had the weirdest dream the other night. I dreamt that I had someone emailing me asking me to make this story a cross with Eponine and Marius from Les Mis. I really need to stop eating cheese before I go to bed.

Fic starts here:

Waking up the next morning was a strange experience for Nancy. She'd lost count of the number of men that she had been with over the years, but never before had she 'slept with' one in the literal sense of the phrase. The night before, she had been unsure of what to do after Bill had had his good time. She had gotten up to leave, but he had stopped her. "Stay" he had murmured. And she obeyed. She turned now to face him as he sighed and opened his eyes.

"I hope ya won't charge me by the hour," was Bill's greeting. They laughed.

'Well, I suppose I'll make an exception this once. Only because I slept so well." Joked Nancy. "Do you have anywhere I can wash up?" Bill pointed to a jug of water in the corner, with which Nancy quickly washed her face and hands. She was making sure that she was presentable when she saw that Bill was putting on his hat and boots.

"What are you doing?"

"Showing yer how to get back – you don't know how, do ya?"

"Well, no, but - "

"But what?"

"No-one's ever been that, well, kind I suppose. Thank you."

"'S alright. I've got somewhere to go too, so I might as well take you back to the Cripples." He took the key off the table and unlocked the door. She followed him out.

* * *

"Well?" Bet asked anxiously as she heard the key in the lock.

"Well what?" Nancy entered.

Bet grinned.

"What?"

"Oh, come on. I waited. Not only did you not come back to the Cripples, but you didn't even come back here. You stayed out all night – with one man. Don't you think that means something? Tell me what happened."

It was Nancy's turn to grin. "Well…" She savoured the pleasure of keeping her friend in suspense.

"Stop it!"

"Oh, alright. He took me back to his place, asked me to stay the night. Then he took me back to the Cripples this morning and then I came back here." Bet stared. "That's all."

"That's all! Nance, he likes you."

"Don't be stupid."

"I'm not being stupid! He came to you two nights running, showed you where he lived and let you stay there. You lucky thing."

"Alright, enough. I'm getting something to eat."

* * *

It had begun to rain as Sikes left the Cripples for Fagin's. For a moment he was to go back to the Cripples, have a drink and wait for the storm to subside, but he had specified that he would meet Fagin at ten o'clock, and he would be damned if he would owe Fagin by being late. So on through the icy rain he walked, gritting his teeth against the freezing weather until he reached Fagin's door. He entered immediately, not bothering to knock, then took his hat off and shook the excess water off it.

"Watch it!"

Sike turned nonchalantly to the owner of the voice. "It'll make you a man, Dodger."

Jack Dawkins shook his head. "I'll get wet enough when I get outside, won't I? I don't need you shaking water all over me as well. I'd be more man than you or anyone else would like." He tapped his hat effortlessly onto his head and walked jauntily out of the room. Sikes idly watched as the rest of Fagin's boys followed at varying paces, until the final one left and shut the door behind turned to the centre of the room.

"What are you grinning about, Fagin? Thought we were here to discuss business."

"Of course we are, my dear, of course we are. But there was something else I thought you would be interested in talking about, too."

"And what's that?"

"Nancy."

Sikes swore under his breath. "Now you're spying on me, is that your game? I'm not free to do anything with you around me, am I?"

Fagin could sense that things were starting to get ugly. "Believe me, my dear, what you do in your own time is no concern of mine, nor do I consider it to be. I just wanted to give to you an… offer, shall we say. Nancy's a fine girl, Bill, one of the best."

"And?"

"She'd be a wonderful girl to have, Bill. Just think. Your house kept, meals made for you and her on hand to do whatever you wish." He paused. "If you took her in, you could have all that and more. It wouldn't cost you anything and just think of the benefits." He saw Sikes hesitate and felt a thrill of triumph. "How about it?"

Sikes paued for a moment before replying. "I'll think about it."


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: I'm so sorry the update has taken so long. Things have been so hectic recently, but thanks for your patience. I hope to update more once school finishes and I get a break from performing.

Fic starts here:

"Is he coming or not?"

"Don't know. Don't care."

"You do."

"I don't. Shhh."

"You still haven't told me his name."

"Shut up, will you?"

"No! I'm enjoying this. Third night in a row. Think it'll happen?"

"Stop it!"

The two girls were sheltered in a corner of the tavern, partly as protection against the wind and partly because it gave them the best view of the entire establishment, and, much to Bet's joy, a complete lookout for anyone entering or leaving. Nancy had kept annoyingly quiet about this new man and had insisted Bet not say anything. "It's nothing," she had said. "Chances are he'll get sick of this, and clear off to somewhere else eventually. If I was stupid enough to hope for anything more than that, I'd get pretty disappointed. Don't tell the others, neither. They'd never shut up about it."

Now that the two of them were alone and waiting, however, Bet had seized the opportunity to talk and tease. She leant over to Nancy to say something further, but quickly shut her mouth when a figure approached them.

"What's going on here?"

"What d'you want, Alice?" Asked Nancy of the new figure.

"Saw you two whispering in the corner. Don't you know that's bad manners?" The third girl smiled. "Besides, the others were getting dull and I thought I could stand to hear something different. Come on, you can trust me."

"It's nothing, really. Bet's just being a fool. Ain't that right, Bet?" There was no answer. "Bet?" Nancy turned to face her friend. "What's –"

"See for yourself." Bet pointed to where a now familiar man was entering the tavern. "Didn't I tell you?"

"Whose he?" Alice asked curiously.

"Nance's."

"Shut up, will you?"

"Look!" The man had turned to where the girls stood, smiled slightly at them and winked. Bet turned triumphantly to Nancy. "If you don't want him, I'll have him!"

"Explains a lot," grinned Alice. "Careful there, Nance." She waved to the two other girls and left in the direction of the bar.

"Aren't you going to go over to him?"

"No. Don't be so stupid. Why would I want to do that?"

"Because he wants you to. Look, he's motioning. Go."

"Alright, just - "

"Now!" Bet pushed her out of the corner, a little roughly, Nancy thought. She approached the table hestitantly and prayed none of the other girls were watching. Bill motioned for her to sit and she did so.

"Want a drink again? My treat."

"Aren't you the generous one!"

"Always." Bill grinned and poured her a drink . "It's been a good day."

"Pleased to hear it." Nancy took a mouthful and swallowed.

"I was talking to someone about you today. Fagin."

"You were? Why?"

"Because he wanted to know. He's too inquisitive for his own good." Sikes sighed. "He said you were one of the best girls he knew. Smart."

"Really? And what do you think?"

"If you are smart as he says, you'll know what I think. Now come on, let's drink."

* * *

"Alice?"

"Hello again, Bet."

"Do you think I'm pretty?"

"I think you're drunk."

"I don't care about that. Tell me."

"Of course you're pretty. What made you think otherwise?"

"Don't know. Nancy."

"What did she say?"

"Nothing. But she gets him." Bet gestured unsteadily. "It ain't fair."

"Life never is, Bet."

* * *

Several hours later, a man and woman exited the tavern and walked slowly and shakily down the street. They were laughing and talking loudly.

"Get off me, will you! You're heavy."

"I have to stop. This ain't good." Sikes, groaning, tottered unsteadily to a nearby wall and rested against it. "Oh, God."

"You alright?"

"Yeah."

"Good, because I ain't going to help you." Nancy laughed. Sikes joined in but quickly fell silent as he turned to face her. Slowly, he reached up and gently pushed her hair back from her face. She quietened, clasped his hand in hers and rested her head languidly upon his shoulder. He put his arms around her and they embraced, oblivious to the misery and deprivation that lay around them.


	8. Chapter 8

After spending an abysmally short time packing, Nancy had reached the conclusion that there was nothing as depressing as the ability of to pack all of one's possessions comfortably in a basket with room to spare. She had half expected such a situation to occur, but it was still a little disconcerting to think that there you owned so little. Still, there were other, more important matters that had to be considered. She turned her attention to Bet, who lay on the bed opposite her. "I'll pay my share of the rent until the end of the month. That should give you enough time to find someone else and give _them _time to move in. Whatever's in the cupboards you can have, too, except for the flour. I'll need that. Bill doesn't have any, for some strange reason. Actually -" Pausing, Nancy gestured to the left cupboard. "I can't believe I'm so stupid. I put some apples in there. They're going to go bad if I leave them any longer. Can you take them out with the flour? We might as well eat them now."

"Alright," Bet replied. Nancy watched as she rose from her bed and waited until her back was turned before reaching under the mattress and placing a well worn book in her basket. "Thanks, Nance."

"It's nothing." Taking an apple and the bag of flour off Bet, she lay down on her freshly stripped bed, took a bite from the apple and stared at the stained ceiling. "I suppose I should go."

"Do you have a key?"

"Nah, Bill said to come around at about eleven and he'd let me in."

"And what's the time now?"

"Not sure. Must be about a quarter to."

"Alright. I'll see you tonight at the Cripples, anyway."

Nancy hesitated. "Didn't I tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"I could have sworn I did."

"What?"

"Nothing, just that I won't be there tonight, that's all. Bill's going out a job and I've got to mind the place." Bet didn't reply. "You alright?"

"Yeah, fine. So I guess won't see you tonight, then." She laughed. "Get out of here. I'm sick of you already."

Nancy mimed throwing the half eaten apple at Bet and rose from her bed. "Look after yourself, won't you?"

"Always do, don't I? See ya."

"Yeah." With that, Nancy picked up her belongings and trotted down the stairs.

* * *

There was no denying that life had become considerably better in the past few months. Bill had taken to frequenting the Cripples nearly every night. At first, he would simply go there to drink and eat, sometimes inviting Nancy to do so as well, after which they would leave together. One night, however, he had taken her by the arm and led her away from the pub. She had asked him what was going on, to which he had merely laughed and replied that he wanted to 'experiment.' After walking some distance, he had led her to a back alley and instructed her to stay there. Intrigued, she ignored the cold and waited for whatever was to come. Several minutes later, a fellow who seemed to be considerably well off approached her and, with a quick precautionary glance, solicited her business. Afterwards, she had noticed that he had failed to properly secure a pocket on his jacket – and more, there was a note visible inside. She had reached in and taken the money, unable to resist such an opportune situation. He didn't notice. Once he had left, Bill had returned with a look of supreme satisfaction on his face.

"We could make a decent living out of fellers like that, couldn't we, Nance?" He asked her, patting his pocket.

"And then some!" She responded, producing the money. He looked at it for a moment, perplexed, but then understood and roared with laughter.

"That's my girl!" He patted her on the back. _His girl_, she had thought with an irrepressible pride.

He had hit her once, but it was hardly worth contemplating. They had both been drinking heavily at the tavern one night and Bill, annoyed about an earlier confrontation with Fagin, had wanted to head home. Nancy, however, had insisted upon staying. He had responded by pulling her from the table and dragging her outside, to which she had hurled abuse and belligerently informed him that she would not put up with that kind of treatment. He had struck her hard on the face, shoved her onto the road and walked off. She was still inebriated and barely able to feel the pain because of how much she had drunk, and so she lay on the ground and stared at the stars that were just visible through the thick pollution. Bill had come back several minutes later and without speaking, picked her up and took her back to his place. They had woken up the next day feeling sick, tired and sore. He didn't apologize for what he had done, instead instructing her to behave herself in future. She had later admitted to herself that his behaviour had been justified, given the way she had acted that night. Besides which, she thought, you're always going to get hit in this line of work and she was just lucky that she had copped it from someone who was otherwise amicable towards her.

* * *

"What's the password?"

"There's a password now?"

"You don't know the password? That's too bad. I can't let you in if you don't know it."

"I'll give you password –" Suddenly, the door opened and Nancy heard Bill speak from within.

"But as I'm feeling charitable today, I suppose you can come in anyway."

"Have you been drinking?"

"The place was damn near freezing. I had to warm up somehow." He sighed and stretched from his seat by the fire.

"I brought you the flour." Nancy said, placing her basket on a table that lay nearby.

"Ah." He rose from the chair and joined her, seizing the basket and examining its contents.

"Do you mind?" She asked, attempting to snatch her belongings back.

"Do I mind what, going through your stockings? Not at all, to be honest," he replied without looking up. Then to Nancy's horror, he produced the book. "What's this?"

"I'd really rather you didn't –" she managed to snatch it off him before he could examine its contents.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

"If it's nothing, then it doesn't matter if I look at it, does it?"

"No, it's just… I'd rather nobody saw it, that's all." Silence followed. "I'm sorry. But I'm allowed some secrets, aren't I?"

"I don't like secrets."

"Don't be stupid. It's not like I'm –"

"Don't you call me stupid!" Without warning, he raised his hand as though about to hit her. She flinched and waited for the inevitable. When it didn't arrive, she stole a glance at him. His hand was still raised, balled into a repressed, albeit angry, fist and his jaw was clenched shut. When he spoke again, it was in a dangerously low voice. "Just watch yourself, my girl."


	9. Chapter 9

That evening, after they had eaten, Nancy silently cleared the table and put the plates to one side to be washed. "Do you need anything for tonight?" She quietly asked Bill.

He shook his head. "I'll get what I need. You don't have to." He rose from his chair and took a shirt that lay abandoned in one corner, then threw it to her. "But I do want you to fix the tear in this tonight. Sew it or patch it up or something, I don't know what you're meant to do." He coughed a few times, then kneeled by the bed and pulled something from underneath it. Nancy watched in amazement as she realized what it was - a box filled with weapons of various types.

She couldn't stop herself. "You actually use those?"

"If I need to."

"Have you ever -" She hesitated. "Have you ever killed anyone?"

He shook his head whilst running his finger over a gun that he now held in his hand. "I could, if I wanted to. It's never come to that, though. What I do works well enough." He glanced briefly at her astonished face and then, as though angry at revealing so much, quickly pocketed the gun and put on his coat.

"Keep the fire going 'til I get back and don't forget to fix that shirt. Don't eat anything, don't steal anything and don't make trouble for anyone else in the place. If you do, I promise that you will wish you hadn't. That clear?" She nodded. "Good. I'll be back tomorrow morning sometime." He threw on his hat, called on the dog and placed a burlap bag inside his coat. With a final precautionary glance at the room and its occupant, he left, shutting and locking the door behind him for good measure. Inside the room, Nancy stared at the fireplace and listened to the crying child in the room above.

Sikes and his dog descended the stairway and exited the building. An old man was sitting outside the doorway and as Sikes passed him, he attempted to grasp his boot and beg for money. Sikes, however, shook him off roughly. "Leave it, will you?" The old man made no reply and so Sikes turned and made his way down the street. He whistled softly to himself whilst walking until he eventually found himself passing the Cripples and Nancy's friend, whose name he didn't know. She was leaning against the doorway with her arms crossed and nodded to him as he passed. He nodded back without interest and continued on his journey. He could feel the girl's eyes on his back as he walked away.

* * *

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Bet turned as she lost sight of Sikes. "You really want to know?"

Tom Chitling smiled at her. "Would I have asked if I didn't?"

She sighed. "Just thinking about what Nancy is up to, that's all."

"She moved in with Bill, has she?" Bet responded in the affirmative. "Fagin told me. How're you getting on?"

"It's awfully quiet."

"You looking for someone to board with you?""

She giggled as she felt his arm around her waist. "Yes..."

Tom smiled. "And can anyone apply?" He leant in towards her and kissed her cheek.

Bet's smile grew bigger and for a moment, she was rather glad that Nancy was not there.

* * *

"Nice work," Bill thought to himself as he cut away at the pane of glass on the door. He deftly reached through the hole to feel for the lock on the inside of the door. Obviously finding it, he grinned and gave it a soft turn. The door opened with no resistance and he entered the house. Having previously examined the house through the windows at night, he knew where to go to find the silver and now ventured towards it. "Very nice." He opened the first of the drawers in the cabinet and found a decent size of cutlery inside. With a quick glance, he took an handful and put it into the sack as quietly as possible. "Good job, this."

It would have been a good job indeed, had the dog not chosen that moment to bark.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: I'm so sorry, I don't know if anyone is still interested in reading this after so long, but I still want to keep writing. I have meant to, but I used to only write when I was depressed or lonely and my boyfriend he has been so good at keeping me out of those states over the past few years. Now, however, he wants to read this because I let slip that I based Bill's 'fun' side on him. There's not much of that in this chapter though, unfortunately. I also want to be able to say that I at least finished one of my stories, and this has always been my favourite and the easiest to write. Anyway, less rambling and more writing.

Fic starts here:

"Know where we are?"

Nancy paused. "I'm not really sure. Somewhere along the Thames, obviously, but exactly where..." She shook her head. "I can't say."

"We are at one of the many docking sites that litter the Thames. Nothing special about it on the surface." Bill replied, taking off his boots and coat. "But the beauty of this place is -" He placed his feet on the stone steps beside the river and began to lower himself down into the water as Nancy stared in horror - "That one can go swimming here if they so desire." He reached the bottom step and waded into the water, which reached up to his waist. She couldn't bring herself to speak. "Coming in?"

"You're mad!" She managed to cry in shock. "God only knows what's in that water. And even if you don't get sick from that, you'll catch pneumonia, it's freezing!"

"Come on, Nance! Where's your sense of adventure?" She did not reply. In a lower voice, he continued, "Get in the water or I will pull you in."

The thought of leaving crossed her mind, but, not knowing where they were and afraid of the possible repercussions of running away, she obeyed and began to climb down the bank. The steps were wet and slippery and as she descended, she lost her footing and fell into the icy black water. With shock, she realised that the water was much deeper than she had originally thought and she struggled to keep her head above it. Bill stood before her, the water inexplicably still at his waist. Then, to Nancy's horror, he began to laugh.

"Help me!" She gasped and wildy threw her arms at him, attempting to raise herself out of the water by holding onto him. "Please -"

"Anyone would think you couldn't swim!" He remained stationary, making no effort to assist her.

"I can't, Bill!"

"You can't?" He asked as a grin slowly crept across his face.

"No!" She screamed.

Sikes seized her by the shoulders and lowered his face to meet hers before uttering just one word: "Good." He pushed her under the water and held her there. She screamed, but there was no sound, no noise. She only could watch the sight above her helplessly: Sikes holding her down, his face distorted by the water currents and unmoved by her plight.

* * *

"Wake up! Now!" Her hair and shoulders were wet, the floor was wet, the mended shirt that she had dozed off next to was wet. Utterly perplexed and scared, she looked up. Sikes stood above her, his hair and face also drenched and the water jug in his hand. Upon seeing that she was awake, he seized her shoulders roughly and pulled her to a sitting position.

"Knife," he panted.

"What?" asked Nancy, still frightened and confused from her nightmare.

"KNIFE! Where is the KNIFE?!"

"I... I cleaned it. After you left, along with the rest of the dishes."

"Where IS it?!" She could see now that, unlike her, he was wet from sweat. She also noticed that cheeks were flushed and his breath came in gasps. He must have run a long way, she thought. Why?

"I put it in the drawer." He loosened his grip on her and made his way towards the cupboard. He flung open the drawer and noisily rummaged through it, swearing loudly as he did so.

"What are you doing?" Her voice sounded small and unfamiliar.

"Shut up."

"Bill - "

"I said, SHUT UP!" He roared, his lips quivering in anger. Now armed with the knife, he turned his gaze towards the table where, Nancy now saw, his dog lay quivering. "You ain't going to do that again, are ya?" He said softly to the dog. "I'm gonna make sure you don't."

"What did he do? What are you doing?"

Sikes grabbed the dog by the scruff of the neck and brutally yanked it from under the table. It yelped and squirmed in a futile attempt to break free.

"Don't," she whispered. Sikes moved the hand holding the knife towards the dog's neck. "DON'T!" She screamed, lurched forwards and grabbed hold of his arm, trying all she could to pull it back.

"Let go of me!" He bellowed. She would not. "LET GO!"

"I won't!"

"Listen to me! He barked at a bloody rabbit outside the window and woke the up entire damn house. I had to run for it, I got nothing from it, d'you hear, NOTHING! They might have seen me. They could have caught me. That's never going to happen again. Not if I can help it. LET ME GO!" He let go of the dog and pushed Nancy down with his free hand. Embracing its freedom, the dog ran to the door. Nancy got to her feet and turned the handle. It wasn't locked. She pulled it open and the dog fled down the stairs and into the open street, whimpering the whole time.

"You're going to regret that." Bill breathed, slamming the door shut.

"I won't let you kill an innocent animal that was only doing what its instincts told it to do!"

"Instincts, huh? I'll show you instincts!" The blow to her face was hard enough to knock her to the ground, but the kicks he delivered to her chest and belly were far more painful. At last he desisted and she dared to slowly open her eyes. He was sitting in a chair, wiping his face with his shirt sleeves. As she took one tentative breath after another, she vaguely began to realise that she was wet again - not on her face this time, but between her legs. "Bill..." she whispered. "Bill..." He turned towards her, his eyes widening in horror at something she could not see.

"No." He muttered. "No, no, no."

"What is it?" She murmured groggily. He walked to her and lifted in her arms, which, Nancy thought, were now suddenly so caring and gentle.

"I thought you had taken care of all that."

"All of what?" She was confused and so sore. As he carried her to the bed, she looked back over his shoulder to see the spot where she had been lying. With a creeping horror, she realised why she felt wet. Blood was running down her legs and there was a smal


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! You guys rock.

Fic starts here:

_God Pardon him! I do, with all my heart;  
And yet no man like he doth grieve my heart._

"Nancy?" The familiar voice of her oldest friend echoed through her throbbing head. "Are you awake?" She ventured to open her eyes. The harsh sunlight streamed through the window onto the bed and made her eyes water.

"Where's Bill?" As the blur of the room came into focus she made out Bet's form sitting on the side of the bed, gazing anxiously at her. "Where is he?" She repeated. "I need to talk to him." Bet did not reply. "Bet -" She attempted to sit up, but the pain was overwhelming.

"Stay still."

"I need to talk to Bill." She insisted stubbornly. Tears were coming into her eyes again as the memories of the previous night sunk in.

"I don't know where he is, Nance. He came by a few hours ago and told me to come here. Said you needed a woman and just walked off. I haven't seen him since." Bet hesitated. "Nance..."

Bet's timidity was more than she could bare. The tears began to ran down her face and she made no attempt to wipe them away.

"Please don't say I lost it. Please." Bet said nothing, but the look on her face was unmistakeable. She put her arms around Nancy. "Oh, God!" Nancy cried. "I didn't even know! I didn't even -"

"I think we need to call the doctor."

"No!"

"Yes."

"Please, you can't!"

"Look at yourself, Nancy!"

"Bet -" Nancy freed herself from Bet's hold. "Listen to me." She took a painful breath and attempted to compose herself. "No doctors. Please. If anyone were to find out what happened, Bill could be arrested. He could be hung." She paused to wipe away a tear. "I couldn't bear to lose him. He's all I have."

* * *

Bill Sikes ventured off the road towards a dense, shady patch of trees. He sat down in the shade of one and wiped his face with his sleeve. A stick lay nearby and he picked it up, looked at it thoughtfully for a moment, then tossed it as far away as he could. He paused for a moment, then frowned and turned to face his dog, which was sitting sheepishly a little distance away.

"Well? Go on!" The dog, as though sensing that he now had permission, ventured off in search of the stick.

Bill's forehead felt hot in his hands. He sighed. It was good to sit down. He had been walking since the early hours, first in search of Bet, then as far away from his lodgings and the miserable sight that lay there as his legs would allow. He had discovered the dog hiding under a rickety staircase outside one of the houses and, with his temper subsided, had called to it. The dog joined him, certainly very hesitant at first, but a little more relaxed now that the danger seemed to have ebbed. It now returned with the stick, dropped it at Sikes' feet and lay on the grass next to him, apparently now disinterested in the game.

"Why didn't she tell me?" He demanded of the dog. At least when he was walking he didn't have to think about what had happened and the terrible irony of it all. She had unwittingly kept him from reverting to his old life in the abbatoir, yet at the same time caused him to do something far, far worse than killing an animal.

"I'm no killer." The dog winked in reply. "I wouldn't have done it if I'd known."

Are you sure about that? Asked a nasty voice in the back of his head. After all, it continued, you never wanted no kids.

He picked up the stick angrily, broke it in half and threw it away. Then he took his jacket off, rolled it up and lay down with his head resting on it. He hadn't slept all night.


	12. Chapter 12

As he knocked on the door to his home the following day, Bill, couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by the gnawing sense of dread in his stomach. Push them out as he might, terrible thoughts and images continued to creep into his mind. Suppose she lay dead behind that door? Or perhaps she had sought revenge for his act by informing the police, who now lay patiently in wait inside? Or maybe (and this was the worst of all) nothing would happen, that the only response to his knocks would be their ominous, hollow echo inside an empty, abandoned room. Such fears were shortly allayed, however, as the door was opened to reveal a nervous looking Bet.

"I don't think you should come in yet." She whispered to him.

"Why not?" He asked, impatient and annoyed.

"She's asleep. And even if she weren't..." Bet lowered her gaze. "She hasn't eaten anything all day. Refused to. And after a bit she just stopped talking and didn't seem interested in anything except sleep. Eventually I just gave up and let her."

"Any doctors?"

"She wouldn't have none." This news formed in him mixed sensations of anxiety and relief.

"Let me in. You've done all you can. Go home." Bet looked unwilling to leave but didn't say anything, apparently fearful of the consequences of refusal. "Go." She slowly descended the stairs, looking back reluctantly as she did so.

Bill walked into the room. The thick stillness was almost overpowering. Slowly, apprehensively, he moved his eyes towards the figure curled up in the bed. She lay there hunched over on her side, with swollen red eyes and the tracks of tears still visible on her cheeks. The thought that she had taken fever suddenly crossed his mind and he reluctantly crossed the room to her and slowly touched her forehead. She didn't wake, but her skin felt icy cold. He cursed under his breath, for he hadn't been able to afford any coals or firewood for weeks. Her shawl lay draped over a chair nearby and he picked it up. Sitting on the side of the bed, he put the shawl next to him, threw his hat to the floor and unlaced and removed his boots. Still she did not stir and he crawled under the covers, put the shawl over her shoulders and held her close, trying to keep her warm.

"Don't," she muttered. "Leave me." She began to struggle against him and he withdrew his arms. She turned to face him, but did not speak.

Does she have to look so miserable? he asked himself. Doesn't she think I feel bad enough?

"How do you feel, eh?" He asked, if only to break the deafening silence. She did not reply, her blank gaze seeming look beyond him rather than at him. "Bet says you haven't eaten all day. You hungry? Nance?"

"I'm sorry." She responded in a broken voice, her eyes beginning to fill with tears. He didn't know what to say, but fortunately she continued, albeit with difficulty. "I didn't know, Bill, I swear I didn't know. I would've told you if I did."

"Why hadn't you taken care of all that?" He asked gloomily.

"I had!" She cried. "I did everything, same as before I came here. I promise you! I didn't mean to, Bill. I didn't mean to." Her face became fearful as she stared into his. "You believe me, don't ya Bill?"

"Yes," he sighed. "But it can't happen ever, d'you hear? Not so long as you're with me."

She brushed away the tears on her cheeks. "But - "

"But what? You know as well as I do it'll never do. Not here. Not in a place where we can't even afford coals, let alone know where the next rent money is coming from. No kids, Nance. Not now, now ever. D'you hear?"

She nodded reluctantly, sadly. "Not now, not ever," she echoed.


	13. Chapter 13

The next morning was bitterly cold. Nancy wanted more than anything to go back to sleep and forget everything that had happened, but she feared what Bill would do to her if he thought she was being lazy. Hoping to win his favour once more, she pushed back the covers of the bed and headed across the icy floor towards the cupboards. It would just have to be bread this morning, she realised miserably. Even if they had wood for cooking, there was nothing to cook.

"Bill?" She whispered, creeping back towards the bed. There was no reply. "Bill? Do you want some breakfast?" His heavy hand snaked out from underneath the covers and found her wrist. He held it tight and pulled her towards him. "No." She whispered. She couldn't. Not right now, not after all that had happened. She tried to break free, but he simply tightened his grip and pulled harder. The pain shot up her arm and she gasped. "Don't! Bill, you're hurting me!"

"Well then, come here and I won't!" He replied. Slowly, reluctantly, she crawled back into the bed. It was much warmer than outside and again she wished she could sleep, but his hands were everywhere - grasping at the strings on her stays, fumbling with the buttons on his trousers and pushing up her skirts. As he climbed on top of her she tried to stare past him and focus on the ceiling instead of what he was doing. But all she could think was, he lied. He lied. He lied.

* * *

"Are you going to eat something or just sit there staring at me all day?" Bill asked her pointedly when they were seated at the table. She cut herself a piece of bread and began to eat it, but it was dry and tasteless and she felt like retching. With some difficulty, she swallowed it and smiled at him. He did not smile back, but gazed at her coldly. This kind of look usually had the effect of exciting her, of giving her a tingling feeling; almost as though his piercing blue eyes were looking beyond her expression and bringing her very out soul for him to read and manipulate as he wished. This morning, however, it made her extremely uncomfortable. She tried to change the atmosphere.

"I never told you about my dream the other night." She burst out.

"A good one?" He asked while cutting another slice of bread.

"No. Bad." He looked up with raised eyebrows and she realised stupidly that telling him about a dream about him drowning her was probably not the best way to change the mood. "Never mind."

He laughed. "Never mind," he repeated, imitating her awkwardness. His smile faded as quickly as it appeared. "Well, you mind what I have to say, d'you hear?" She nodded apprehensively. "The job from the other night was supposed to tie us over for a bit. But things going the way they did..." He sighed. "Right now we've got nothing. And by 'nothing', I do mean nothing. Now, I don't know about you, but I ain't planning to go hungry and cold 'til the next time, 'cause God know when that'll be." Again she nodded. "I need you to go back on the game."

She had expected this, but it was still no easier to accept. This morning was bad enough, but now he was telling her to do it once more for strangers? To go back on the foul, cold, wet streets; to please the filthy, cruel and perverted; to take her health and indeed her very life in her hands; and to do it all with fake honeyed words dripping from a forced and contorted smile?

"I can't," she muttered.

"What do you mean, you can't? We've done it before and it went well, remember? I'll be there to mind you again."

"But we could try something else instead," she insisted. "Something that'll pay better. Snowing, maybe -"

"In this weather?" He laughed.

"Or - "

"Nance," He said firmly. "Listen to me, will ya?" She stopped. "I thought it over last night and it's the best way. We know how to do it well and I for one don't want to risk my neck on something new that might not pay as well. Believe me when I way that it's the best money we can get, with the least risk."

"The least risk for you," She couldn't help thinking. But there was another reason she didn't want to do it. Despite his temper, despite the pain and grief he had caused her, despite everything that had gone wrong, she had always been comforted by the simple thought that she was his. She didn't want to be with anyone else. All she wanted was him.


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: A massive, massive thank you to ScroogeMcDuck, ~*MusicalTwin*~, Katrina Sparrow 19, veerle510 and Red Cherries for all their kind reviews. I start work at Disney World in a month or so, so I don't know how often I'll be able to update, but I have just a few chapters left to go anyway. Next semester I am thinking of taking creative writing at university and thinking of rewriting this in an expanded, more modernist style, kind of like _Wide Sargasso Sea _(which I love). Apparently works based on 19th century 'classics' are now quite popular... and on that subject I have finally read _A Time Before Oliver_. I quite liked how depressing London was and the book had some good ideas in terms of plots, but Bill was WAY too sentimental for my liking and I don't think the events were joined together particularly well, nor were they very well written. But then, that's just my opinion and reading back over my writing, the same could certainly be said about my work. Perhaps I'm just jealous because Eleanor Thompson got published, ha ha.

Katrina Sparrow 19: A certain character has reappeared in this chapter especially for you :)

Scrooge McDuck: Don't worry, your story gave me goosebumps in a good way! It was very powerfully written. I was going to reply to your comment on your reviews page, but my computer won't let me for some reason, so my response is here instead.

~*MusicalTwin*~: No, not really based on any film adaptation. It's pretty much based just on the book itself and my experiences from when I lived in London (not that I lived as a pickpocket, but whatever). When I read the book, Nancy came across to me as quite depressed and anxious and I don't think that any adaptation has really been able to capture that. That's also one of the big problems I have with the musical - the tendency to cast large, overbearing alto singers (cough*jodieprenger*cough) in the role often makes me feel like Nancy ends up more macho than Bill! But again, this is just my opinion.

* * *

"Alright?"

"Alright." Replied her makeshift mirror without looking at her. "Let's go." Bill Sikes pulled on his coat and opened the door to leave. Nancy quickly followed, adjusting her shawl. After she had made her way out of the door, Sikes shut it behind her and locked it, pocketing the key. They had left the dog inside, in case anyone should decide to break in in their absence. Not that we have much to steal, thought Nancy.

"Right," Said Sikes softly, taking her arm as they descended the staircase. "A couple of hours, depending on what we can get. Roll if you can, but not too often and nowhere where they're going to look for their money to spend straight after. We don't want to get a reputation."

"Where will we go?" Asked Nancy.

"Not too far. I want ter stop in at the Cripples first and we'll go from there." As they walked down the dark narrow streets, she felt glad of his hand on her elbow. She placed her other hand over his and gave it a quick squeeze. He did not respond. When they reached the Cripples, he motioned for her to stay in the doorway. From there, she could see Fagin, seated and obviously waiting for Bill, who approached the table and sat down next to him. They muttered with their heads low and close together, obviously discussing the failed robbery.

"Wotcher, Nance." Said a small voice to her right. Nancy turned to face the speaker and couldn't help but smile.

"Does Fagin know you're here, drinking that stuff?"

The Dodger grinned back. "Ah, what he don't know won't hurt him." He looked at her closer and furrowed his eyebrows. "You alright?"

"Yeah," she lied.

"You look tired."

Nancy forced a laugh. "Is that an offer to take me home?"

The Dodger downed the last of his beer and took off his hat in a low, sweeping bow. "All you have to do is ask, m'lady!"

Bill was walking back to her. "Behave yourself, alright?" She asked.

"Alright." And with that, the Dodger vanished as suddenly as he had appeared. Nancy turned to face Bill, who laid his thick hand on her shoulder and lowered his face to hers.

"Listen," he whispered. "Remember not to tell anyone about the... about what happened. Especially not Fagin."

"I know." She whispered back.

"Good girl. The bloke in the grey coat near the window." She obeyed his instructions meekly and approached the man in question, gently pouting her lips and playing with her hair. Sikes watched on. She may have been doing it purely for the money, but even underneath the heavy makeup and gestures of false seduction he still found her very attractive. He saw her lock her hands over the man's and lead him out of the tavern into an alleyway, the same alleyway where, not too long ago...

She had said she was lonely. Was she still lonely now?

She did not look at him as they walked past the doorway.


	15. Chapter 15

Bill Sikes blew on his hands and stomped his feet in the chilly air. He waited around the corner from Nancy, staying on the lookout for danger and ready to take the money she would give him. After this, he would take her to Smithfield, where the crowds for Bartholomew fair were already beginning to congregate. Business over there was very good at this time of the year, he thought, smiling dryly to himself. God knows how much money he himself had spent on women during the fair's many years of debauchery. By now they had an effective system going. Bill would find the blokes for her and whilst she was with them he would wait nearby until she came back to him with the money. If she had any trouble, she would whistle for his help. No man continued to cause trouble once they saw him approaching with his fists raised. There was only one problem with this routine, and it was that he hated waiting nearby. He would never admit it, but he felt sick to his stomach whenever he started thinking about what they were doing to her. He had told the truth that morning - it was the only option they had. But that didn't make doing it any easier.

Nancy shakily emerged from the alleyway, smoothing her hair. He could see the bloke she had been with walking away from him with his hands stuffed into his pockets. Suddenly, Bill was seized by an impotent sense of hatred and rage. What kind of God would give him no choice but to sell the only person who had ever loved him?

"Here," Nancy whispered horsely and pressed a coin into his hand. He put it into his pocket with the others and closed his fist over them to deter any would-be pickpockets. The money being safe, he headed towards Smithfield in silence. Nancy, apparently sensing that he didn't want to speak, followed close behind. They crossed foggy, dark streets filled with dirty children, dogs, homeless drunks and beggars; all of them enveloped in a solemn, dark stillness that seemed to reflect Bill's own gloomy state of mind. As they reached Smithfield, however, a shrill voice cut like a knife through the sombre air and made the two of them jump.

"Oh, you horrid brute!" It squealed. "To have so cruelly killed the baby!"

Bill turned towards the sound. A puppet booth was set up on the side of the road underneath a street lamp, no doubt in preparation for the coming fair. Two monstrous, hooknosed puppets were arguing inside it. Although the hour was late, a crowd of half a dozen or so was watching the action keenly. Bill looked with disdain at their smiling faces, which in the shadows of the lamp looked almost grotesque.

"You shall have another one soon, Judy." Squawked the male puppet. "Plenty more where that came from." The audience laughed.

Bill didn't find it funny and he could see from Nancy's face that she didn't either. He put his hands around her shoulders. "Let's go." He whispered. But she continued to stare at the macabre dolls, horrified, as the woman produced a stick and began to hit the man with it. The laughter of the crowd increased and seemed to him to become distorted and sick. "Nancy - "

"I'll teach you to kill my pretty baby, Mr. Punch!"

"But I no like such teaching! Maybe you like my lesson instead, eh?" With these lines, Punch seized the stick from his wife and started hitting her violently. The laughter was piercing.

"Nance -"

"No more, Mr. Punch, no more!"

"I think I should make you quiet soon, eh, Judy?"

Underneath the noise he heard Nancy let out a hollow sob. He pulled her away from the awful sight and she made no effort to resist him. "Come on." He led her around a bend to where the puppet show could no longer be heard. By now the tears were streaming down her face. She let out a small cry and buried her head in his chest. "Oh, Nance..." He murmured, running his hands through her hair. "Shhh. It's alright. It'll all be alright. You'll see."

How could he get her to believe what he said when he didn't believe it himself?


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: If anyone is a fan of Sondheim, I've just finished uploading my production of Assassins to youtube. Email me if you're interested and I'll send you a link :)

Fic starts here:

"Shhh. It's alright. It'll all be alright. You'll see."

After a few moments Nancy broke free of his grip to wipe her eyes. Even in the darkness of the unlit street, she could see the kohl from her eyes running, wet and smeared, onto her fingers. "I must look a fright," she muttered thickly.

"Look at me." Sikes replied. Gazing down at her, he gently rubbed underneath her eyes to remove the offending makeup. "There," he eventually said, satisfied.

"I don't know why I let that upset me so much," she told him. "Just a stupid puppet show. I feel so foolish."

"Never mind," Sikes told her. "Just a little longer and then we'll go home. Come on, this way." He took her by the elbow and led her down another side street, where a gleaming light spread warmly over the cobblestones. As they got closer, Nancy could see that it was a tavern, about half the size of the Cripples and thick with the smell of tobacco smoke. She took a deep breath and tried to shut out the awful images of the puppets as they entered the rowdy den.

* * *

"Bill?" Whispered Nancy some half an hour later as she crept out of a decrepit alleyway. "I'm done." She had learnt long ago never to say the word "money" in the open streets. "Bill?"

There was no response.

"Bill?" She repeated, a little anxious.

Nothing.

Where was he? She whistled.

Silence. She whistled again, and again no reply.

Panic began to claw its way into her chest. He had never ignored her signal for help before. Had something happened to him?

"Bill!" She cried. A woman in an upstairs window shouted for her to be quiet. Nancy ignored her and called out again. "Bill, where are you?"

"Right 'ere, luv," whispered an gravelly, unfamiliar voice. A set of hands from behind gripped her shoulders, sending waves of pain down her arms. She began to struggle.

"Let go of me!"

"Come on, luv, we just want a bit o' fun." The man who had spoken was now in front of her, his pockmarked face lowered towards hers while someone else still held her from behind. He smiled cruelly at her - and pulled out a knife. Fear giving her strength, she kicked him hard in the shins. He roared in pain. "Bitch!" He spat in her face and grabbed her hair with his free hand. She twisted her face around and sunk her teeth into his arm. He pulled his arm back and, with him distracted, she stomped on the feet of the man behind. She felt him loosen his grip and took advantage of the situation, struggling free and running away as fast as she possibly could.

Past miserable ruins of buildings, past cats and pigs, past the puppet booth which was now begin dismantled, left and then right, the streets were beginning to look familiar, but where was Bill? Was he alright? What had happened?


	17. Chapter 17

The door was locked and he wasn't there.

Nancy had prayed desperately that he had returned home for some reason, _any _reason. As long as he was there and she could see him, she didn't care. But after she had torn up the stairs, twisted the knob from side to side and banged frantically on the rotting wood, she realised with a heavy heart that the room was empty. There was nothing to do but wait in the hope that whatever had happened, he was able to get home. She sunk into a sad little ball in the corner with her head on her knees. Escaping from the men and running so far had caused her to sweat and now, in the cold, she started to shiver.

Perhaps she ought to go to Bet's? But the streets were dark and she was so frightened of being attacked again. Being inside offered her some protection, at least. Somewhere in the distance, a baby began to cry. The sound made her cover her ears and shut her eyes. The thoughts of what might have been began to intermingle with her fears.

She wasn't sure how long she stayed there for, or even whether she fell asleep or not. She supposed that she must have, for ultimately the sound of a man's voice made her come to and she noticed that her hands had fallen to her sides. She listened to the noise intently as it continued, with mixed feelings of anticipation and fear. Was it Bill?

Well, whoever he was, he was singing.

"The more I kissed her, the more I loved her;

The more I kissed her, the more she smiled.

I forgot my mother's warning,

Nancy soon had me beguiled."

Heavy feet were ascending the stairs. She shrank further into the corner.

"Whiskey, whiskey, Nancy-" The steps stopped. "Ah! Knew you'd find you're way back alright. I worried a bit at first, but then I... where's that blasted key gone..."

"Bill?" She asked hesitantly.

"Yes, little mouse. What are you hiding down there for?"

"I was so frightened! Where have you been?"

"Got it! Let's get inside and light a candle; I can't hardly see a bloody thing." Nancy could just make out his silhouette, leaning heavily on the doorhandle. After some fumbling with the lock, he managed to swing the door open and stumble in. Nancy followed. The door slammed shut behind her.

"Will you light a candle?" She asked.

"In a bit. Come here."

"I can't see you... Bill, I was so scared when you didn't come. These men - they tried to hurt me... where did you go?"

His hands were cold. She could feel them creeping around her waist and stroking her hair. His breath was on her cheek and she could sense his face coming closer to hers. He reeked of drink and a sudden thought crossed her mind - and as she felt his lips press against hers and tasted his foul breath the thought became a horrified conviction.

"Where'd you get the money from?" She asked angrily, pushing him away. He didn't reply. "Out with it! Where'd you get the money from?"

Silence.

"You didn't... please tell me you didn't spend what I... oh my God..." She breathed in shakily and tried to stay calm. "How could you?"

"Nance-"

"Don't touch me! God knows I've been touched enough tonight!"

"Will you stop- " His hand was on her shoulder but she couldn't bear to be handled by him; by this selfish, deceitful, cruel man. Blinded by anger, she swung her arm up and slapped him across his face with all the might she could muster.

They both stood there in stunned shock for a moment, their heavy breathing the only sound in the darkness. Then a sudden noise from Sikes made Nancy jump. He was laughing.

"Oh, my girl..." He chuckled. "Looks like you're a Judy in more ways than one." In his drunkenness he managed to seize her by the wrists and began to swing her violently around the room, ignoring her apologies and screams of fright.

"A dance, a dance, my Judy!" He roared. "Is that the best you can do? Perhaps my stick would make you go faster! And when they hang me for it I'll defeat the devil himself, and -" Suddenly he stopped spinning. "Oh, bloody hell." He dropped to the floor and crawled over to the bed, rummaging urgently underneath it for something. A chamber pot was pulled out just in time for him to be violently sick into it.

Nancy backed up against the wall, dizzy and shaking. All she could think was, "Thank God it was empty."

After a few minutes, his noises stopped and he lowered himself unsteadily onto the floor. Nancy's mind was now resolved. She stood in silence for several minutes until she heard a reassuring snore from his direction. She then crossed to the door as quickly and quietly as she could and turned the knob. Looking back at the sleeping figure, however, she stopped and hesitated for a moment. She silently headed to the bed, lifted the meagre cover off it and gently covered Sikes before once again heading to the door and leaving, shutting it noiselessly as she did so.


	18. Chapter 18

A/N: I recently stumbled across an article about a literary historian, Rebecca Gowers, and her theory that Dickens based Nancy's murder on the real life killing of prostitute Eliza Grimwood. It's a fascinating read! Gowers' novel The Twisted Heart, which I am hoping to find a copy of, presents a fictionalised account of her research. Here's the URL to the article: .

Fic starts here:

What am I to do? She silently asked herself.

On the cold wooden floor, wrapped in a torn blanket, she lay on her side and stared sadly into the blackened emptiness of the unlit fireplace.

No money and no strength to even move from the floor, let alone find work. All her possessions left behind with him and no possibility of going back for them. Soon Tom and Bet's hospitality would be worn out and then there would be no place to stay, save for the poorhouse. Sore head, sore feet, sore shoulders, sore wrists... sore_ mind_.

Capable of nothing and nothing to be done about it.

what.

am i.

to do.

Was that a knock at the door?

* * *

Nancy had arrived on their doorstep in the dark of the previous night; wide-eyed, breathless and terrified. Bet had let her in anxiously and offered her the one bed that the landlord hadn't sold, but Nancy merely shook her head and dropped to the floor with exhaustion. "Don't tell him I'm here," she had whispered before curling up into a fearful, shaking ball right there on the floorboards.

In the cold grey light of the morning, Bet had caught a glimpse of some fierce looking bruises on Nancy's wrists and was filled with horror. What had happened to her friend this time? She found herself filling with concern and also a firm resolve to help. She decided to do what Nancy had begged her not to do before. She called the doctor.

The doctor she approached at the nearby workhouse initially refused to come. "If she needs to be seen," he said, "she has to be brought here." But Bet was determined.

"Sir," she insisted, "my friend either can't or won't move from my room. The only way I could possibly bring her in here would be to drag her; and I promise you that if I tried that, I would be so exhausted that you would have to treat me as well." She looked firmly into his face with all the conviction she could muster. Eventually, the doctor sighed and wiped his face.

"Very well," He acquiesced. "But official guidelines mean that I cannot treat her there. If she needs additional care, she must be taken back here, to the workhouse. Will you consent to that?" Bet hesitated briefly, then nodded.

When they returned, Nancy was still sleeping on the floor. "Will you wait here by the door for a moment?" Bet asked the doctor.

"If you wish."

"Nancy?" Bet asked softly, approaching the motionless form.

"Yes?" It replied slowly .

"I need you to do something for me."

"What?"

"There's a doctor here, he's come to examine you. I know what you said before, but –"

"I don't know if that matters now."

"Then you will let him look at you?" The shape paused.

"Alright."

With this permission, the doctor approached them and spoke to Bet. "Would you be so good as to leave us alone for a few minutes, please?" Bet obliged, glancing sadly back at her friend before closing the door behind her.

What had happened to Nancy? She wondered as she stood in hallway. Was it Bill who, once again, had made her so miserable? Had she left him for good now? The thought filled Bet with a kind of guilty relief and she tried to suppress the feeling and distract herself. If Nancy was sick, she thought, they had to look after her. She would stay with them, of course Tom would agree to that. The only problem would be the extra food required, but surely they could work around that –

At this thought, the doctor entered the corridor and motioned for her to approach him.

"She's suffering from hysteria," he muttered, "for which I suggest as much bed rest as possible. Watch her for the next week or so and _bring her in_ -" he emphasised the words " - if she doesn't improve. She also has a number of bruises on her wrists, shoulders and stomach, which are in various states of healing. When I asked her about them, she refused to tell me anything. Do you have any idea where she may have got them?"

Bet may have called a doctor for her, but Nancy's entreaties from the week before still echoed in her ears. "Nowhere I can think of," she lied sadly.

* * *

"Nancy, what's wrong?"

"Don't open the door!"

The knock at the door was fast turning into a fierce pounding. "Open up!" Came a voice from behind it. His voice.

"No," Nancy whispered, the blood draining from her face. "Don't let him in."

"I know you're in there!"

"No," she repeated to herself.

"Nancy! Open the damn door!"

She shook her head and put her fingers to her mouth in subconscious fear.

"Let me in!"

Bet tiptoed across the floor and put her arms around her. "Don't let him get in," Nancy whispered tearfully.

"I won't," Bet whispered back. "He'll be gone soon; don't you worry."

After what felt like an eternity, the pounding began to subside. Some indistinct muttering and one final kick on the door, and silence prevailed once again.

"See? It's alright." Bet assured Nancy. "You're going to be alright."

There was no response. Bet looked over to her friend, whose head now lay limply on her shoulder. Nancy had fainted in fear.


End file.
